Drowning
by the ticking clock
Summary: Kvothe is as wild and as dark as the ocean, and Bast drowns in him. Spoilers for "The Lightening Tree." Drabble.


**Because I can't get these two out of my head, and I am desperate for Doors of Stone, here is this messy drabble. **

His voice is rich and deep and reverberates deep in the marrow of Bast's bones.

The red haired boy is singing, fingers dancing across the strings of his lute. His eyes are closed, deep in the heart of the song.

Bast has sunken into the song too. The melody surges through his veins, lights up his heart and twines through his body like liquid fire. He spins and leaps and dances as he hasn't since he left the Fae realm. His hooves hit the wooden floor with a sharp _clap, _and the red haired boy's voice falters. He looks up.

Bast flashes him a sudden, rakish, grin that is warm and tastes like honey on his lips.

The boy's hands resume their dance along the lute's strings, but Bast catches his slight smile and the wild gleam in those green eyes. They connect through the music, Bast providing a sharp beat with his dancing, the lute and the lilting voice, the melody.

They are a team.

When the last note fades, the music stilling the wild movement of Bast's bones. He skids to a stop along the bar's edge, hands braced against the cool wood, chest heaving.

Across the room, the red haired boy catches his eye, and grins.

* * *

><p>After, they run through the forest together, and Bast teaches him to dance.<p>

They are wild and free and Bast laughs until his chest aches.

"What's your name, human?" he asks.

The boy catches Bast's hands up in his, all brilliant eyes, moonlight and the steady thrum of music in his grasp. "My name is Kvothe," he smiles like a thief, "you may have heard of me."

The Fae twists away from touch, taunting, teasing. Kvothe lets him go, watching with crossed arms. "What's your name, then?"

Bast is giddy and reckless and drunk on laughter. He stamps a hoof, and let's his glamour fade. It feels like a cool rush of water. "I am Bastas, Son of Remmen, Prince of Twilight and the Telwyth Mael."

Kvothe takes half a step back, but other than a raised eyebrow, he does not react adversely to Bast's shocking revelation. It's somewhat disappointing. Bast narrows his eyes. "You've seen Fae before."

The boy grins, long and slow and wicked. "Seen them? I've been with Felurian." "_What?" _

Kvothe nods. "Why don't you sit down, Bastas, son of Remmen? I'm going to tell you a story."

* * *

><p>Kvothe tells him many stories.<p>

He tells him about a girl who hid from the moon and lived in secret and who captured sweet dreams in candle wax. He tells him about two boys who were the best friends anyone could have ever asked for. He tells him about Felurian. He tells him about the importance of music-the stories one can capture in verse and melody and song.

Bast listens.

* * *

><p>Kvothe runs, and Bast runs with him.<p>

They change their identities, recreate their names and escape to the most depressingly dull town Bast has ever seen. He feels contained and trapped and so very alone here, where the only music is Kvothe's whispered songs after twilight.

Then Kvothe stops singing all together.

And Bast fills the silence with restless brooding.

* * *

><p>He escapes with the town's children to the Lightening Tree, and trades secrets for advice. It makes life in town slightly less boring, and he does delight in seeing their reckless grins and innocent laughter. He likes causing mischief.<p>

With Kvothe so lost within himself these days, the children have become Bast's release.

With them, he can sing.

* * *

><p>Kvothe is dark, and deep.<p>

Bast knows that there is a song in him, screaming for release. Occasionally, his Reshi will hum without seeming to realize he's doing it. He'll tap his fingers in a rythm against the bar's smooth counter.

Bast tries to coax the song free with gentle touches, whispered breaths and stories spoken in the late hours of the night when the fire burns low. Kvothe resists-shooting his student warning looks and growled grievances, until Bast finally gives in.

Where is the man who had made him laugh, so very long ago?

Bast can see glimpses of him sometimes, but the mask is solidifying-hollowing his master's cheekbones and dulling his eyes.

Bast wants to leave. He wants to run and skip and dance under the light of the moon. He wants to remember what it is like to laugh.

But he can't.

Kvothe has him. He's had him since that very first song.

Kvothe is as wild and as dark as the ocean, and Bast drowns in him.


End file.
